Papercuts
by coolbyrne
Summary: "You have a nice bedside manner, Dr. Isles." The comment, while worded in jest, was said with sincerity. She dipped her head in thanks. "I try to treat the living as well as I treat the dead."


TITLE: Papercuts

AUTHOR: coolbyrne

RATING: K+

SUMMARY: "You have a nice bedside manner, Dr. Isles." The comment, while worded in jest, was said with sincerity.  
She dipped her head in thanks. "I try to treat the living as well as I treat the dead."

A/N: Just a little something that I hope goes in a different direction than the reader is expecting at the beginning. There will be no sequel, so please enjoy this one. My thanks to my beta reader, happycamper5, who is quite... handy.

...

"Maura, how many times do I have to tell you to lock your door? I could be a burglar or a Jehovah's Witness."

"All the jewelry is in a box on my dresser, upstairs, second door to the left," came the voice from the couch. "Leave your copy of 'Awake!' by the key bowl. Thank you."

"Very funny," Jane said as she walked into the living room. "Hey, were you sleeping?"

Maura glanced down at her nightgown that was partially covered by a blanket thrown over her body, and refrained from pointing out the obvious. "I was just resting my eyes."

The detective scooted Maura's feet to make space so she could sit. "It's only 10 o'clock."

Snuggling into the throw pillow, the blonde said, "I've been up for 38 hours, Jane."

"The Roberts homicide and the two Jane Does. I know," she said, gratefully patting Maura's leg with the file in her hand. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about." She looked at the TV. "The Austral Migration of the Scallopickaday. Maybe it's not just being up for 38 hours that has you worn out."

Maura ignored the jibe. "Scolopacidae," she corrected.

"Scallopi, Scolopa," she quipped. "C'mon. I want you to look over these files I found." Without waiting for a response, Jane stood and made her way to the granite island in the kitchen.

"Thanks for the help," Maura grumbled as she pushed herself up into a sitting position. Her sarcasm was wasted on the woman who was intently spreading pieces of paper across the counter top. She walked past the detective and went straight for one of the overhead cupboards. Reaching for a tea cannister, she put the kettle on to boil and leaned against the counter.

"Caffeine after 8PM, Dr. Isles?"

Suppressing a yawn with the back of her hand, Maura replied, "It appears I may be awake for some time."

"Don't think I'm not hearing all this sarcasm," Jane informed her. "I'm just ignoring it. So pour your tea and look at this."

Dutifully doing as she was told, Maura took down a mug and poured hot water over the tea ball, hanging the chain over the lip of the cup. She blinked hard and tried to focus on the documents spread out before her.

"What am I looking at?"

"Okay, so you know I've got that box of cold case files under my desk," Jane began. The doctor nodded. "I told you there was something about these cases that isn't sitting right with me."

Maura nodded. "You said you had a 'gut feeling' about the _modus operandi_."

"Right. I mean, why cover the face with a burlap bag? Why not a plastic bag? It'd be quicker. And a hell of a lot easier to get your hands on."

"Maybe he doesn't want to kill his victims right away," the pathologist suggested. "In fact, we're finding the cause of death is strangulation due to a rope or cord, not asphyxiation from the bag. Which, I might add, we're only identifying as burlap because the majority of evidence points to it."

Jane tapped a faded black & white 8x10 photo. "This is Genevieve Montgomery. Murdered in 1961, death due to strangulation with a rope or a cord. Nancy Edwards, murdered in 1962, strangled and dumped in a ditch on the side of the road. Catherine Fitzgerald, murdered in 1962, strangled and dumped."

"It's a very common method of murder, Jane."

"Donna Patterson, murdered in 1983, strangled and dumped. Same for Michelle Corbett, 1983. Same for Denise Cabaretti, 1985." She pointed to each photo as she said their names.

"Okay, but I'm not certain I'm making the connection."

"These three," she said, indicating the last three names, "have been solved." She pulled out a picture of the killer. "Mark Frederick Gabinski was convicted in 1988 of these three murders. He's suspected of killing at least a half a dozen other women across the eastern coast line in the early 80's. Caught because a drop of his blood was found on the body of Denise Caberetti."

"1988? Tommy Lee Andrews was the first criminal convicted on DNA-based evidence and that was in 1987. There must have been some compelling additional evidence to convict Mark Gabinski. How did they tie him to the first two women?" Maura asked.

Jane held up another photo. "Found in the throats of each victim was a coarse thread, later identified as burlap. Detectives were able to connect him to each victim through prior knowledge and witness testimony."

Maura frowned. "I'm still not making the connection between the cases in the 1980's and those in the 1960's. Or our current cases, for that matter."

"Forensic testing in the 60's wasn't much, but they collected evidence like no one's business. About three years ago, I went back into the archives and found the collection box. Lots of bits and pieces, but more importantly, a single, unidentified blood sample. I had it sent to the lab. I wasn't really expecting a result, you know? Just thought I'd get something to update the files. Got this."

Maura took the DNA sheet from her hand. "That's incredible! To get a result on blood that is over 40 years old..."

"It gets better," the detective said as she handed Maura another piece of paper.

Her eyes widened as she made the connection. "These samples are familial."

"Father and son," Jane said. "Mark Gabinski's father was Frederick Edward Gabinski, and we suspect he murdered those three women in the 60's. We were never able to prove it - too many witnesses dead and too much evidence destroyed - but we're pretty damn sure. And Gabinski did everything but brag about it when I asked him."

"So a father and son embarked on a killing spree 20 years apart?" Maura hypothesized. Jane waited for the pieces to fall into place. "And you think... that our current murderer is also connected? We haven't found any DNA."

"I know he is." Answering Maura's questioning eyebrow, the brunette revealed the final piece. "Jason Frederick Gabinski was convicted for sexual assault. His DNA's already on file."

Tilting her head and looking at the evidence laid out, it didn't take Maura long to conclude, "Jason Gabinski is the son of Mark."

"Very good," she beamed at both Maura's intelligence and what it all meant for the case. "He was 5 years old when Mark was convicted. We've put out an APB."

"I'll double-check the findings in the morning. See if anything was missed."

Jane grinned. "DNA will nail him, but if I do my 'gumshoe thing', that might do the trick. Now that we have a suspect, it gives us something to focus on. It's only a matter of time. I'm just not sure about the burlap sack. I mean, I get why they covered the faces, but why burlap?"

"Ah, this I can answer."

Jane playfully rolled her eyes. "Colour me surprised."

The doctor made a face and continued. "Plastic bags weren't available to the public until 1965."

"So the father made due with what he had at the time. The son and grandson just followed suit."

"Good work, Jane," Maura praised, returning the smile.

"Well, I figured you'd want to know." She saw Maura's mouth twitch. "Okay, and maybe I wanted to brag a little."

"What is it Frankie says? 'It's not bragging if you can back it up'?"

"It's why he's so humble," Jane deadpanned.

Maura laughed and shook her head. "I'm glad you came over. I'll sleep better tonight."

"Is it the news or the company?"

"A bit of both," she admitted. "Do you want to stay? I believe you've left one of your suits in the guest room. And yes, before you ask, I bought your beer."

"I was not going to ask that," Jane weakly protested. "But since you brought it up, I think I'll have one in honour of my brilliant detecting."

Maura laughed again. "Let me help you with these and we'll go sit on the couch. I imagine SportsCenter will be on any minute."

The women began piecing the files back together, pleased at the apparent outcome of a handful of rather brutal cases. As Jane held out a sheet of paper for Maura, the blonde pulled it back, slicing across the tip of Jane's index finger.

"Sonofa-" she saw Maura's chastising look. "Gun?" Reflexively, she pressed the wounded finger to her mouth. Seeing Maura's horrified look, she promptly pulled it out. "It's bleeding!"

"Well, don't put it in your mouth," the doctor chastised. "And yes, I know, 'That's what she said'. While I still don't know what that means, I do know the human mouth is a cesspool of germs."

"Hmm," Jane mused, "Ma used to kiss it better all the time. I'm lucky to have any fingers. Or my knees." She smiled sweetly at Maura. "Good thing I have a doctor on call."

"Very funny. Hold still while I get the first aid kit."

"First aid? Are you gonna have to amputate?"

"My first aid kit is not equipped for an amputation, so you're safe today." Maura opened a drawer underneath the cutlery and removed a small white box. "You need to clean the wound and cover it with a bandaid," she instructed as she took out the required items.

"Wound?" the brunette repeated. "It's a paper cut."

Maura hummed and nodded. "Regardless, it needs proper attention. Give me your hand." Jane acquiesced, but not before sighing dramatically. The room was quiet except for a small hiss from Jane as Maura carefully dabbed at the cut with an antiseptic swab. She gave it a moment to dry, then gently wrapped a bandaid around the finger.

"You have a nice bedside manner, Dr. Isles." The comment, while worded in jest, was said with sincerity.

She dipped her head in thanks. "I try to treat the living as well as I treat the dead."

"Hmph," Jane replied, her sarcasm back to the fore. "I hope you're not treating any other brilliant detective's paper cuts."

Maura gave a melodramatic sigh. "It seems I'm only tending yours." With a wink she added, "But please tell Detective Frost there will always be a doctor in the house for him." Jane attempted to indignantly pull her hand away, but Maura held her firmly by the wrist. With her right hand, she uncurled Jane's fingers to expose her palm. She knew this was a sore spot for the detective, figuratively. She wondered if it was literal as well.

"Does it still hurt?" she asked as she softly brushed her finger tips over the raised scar.

"Every day," Jane admitted.

Maura frowned at the confession, but continued with her gentle exploration. With tender yet strong thumbs, she massaged the scar in a circular manner, clockwise and counter clockwise, clockwise and counter clockwise. "You have unusually long phalanges," she commented with an unexpected catch in her throat. The sarcastic quip she was anticipating never came, and she took the silence as encouragement to continue. "Hands are incredible things; a collection of 27 bones attached to the body by two anchors, the radius and the ulna." She used the thumb of her left hand to lightly trace over the named bones. The skin on the inside of the wrist was delicate and soft. "The pivot, of course, being the wrist. You can't feel them, but there are eight bones in the wrist, one of them being the pisiform, which is the second smallest bone in the body."

She leaned forward to look closer, and felt Jane mirror her movement. They were so close, she could feel Jane's breath on her forehead. Trying to ignore their proximity, she turned over the detective's hand and resumed her lesson. "The five bones of the palm are the metacarpals." She traced the matching scar on the back of her hand. "Did your surgeon tell you the extent of the injury?"

Jane closed her eyes and nodded. "Across the second and third lumbrical and through the third metacarpal. Both hands."

"I'm not pleased with the work he did on the closure," Maura said and Jane couldn't help but chuckle. The blonde ignored the soft interruption and grasped the base of Jane's smallest finger. With a gentle squeeze, she identified the bones as she moved to the tip of the finger. "The fifth proximal phalanx bone. The fifth middle phalanx bone. The fifth distal phalanx bone."

"Let me guess," the detective said when Maura's attention went to her ring finger. "The fourth proximal phalanx bone?"

Maura lifted her head and drew in a breath when their noses touched. Neither pulled back. "Very good," she whispered, her breath feathering Jane's mouth.

Dark eyes met hazel, breaking only to glance at parted lips. Slowly, their fingers entwined and time stood still. A simple tilt of heads would bring their lips together; unfortunately, they turned in the same direction, and their noses bumped again. Maura laughed, the sound genuine and honest, and the moment was broken.

"You'd better never treat Frost's paper cuts this way," was all Jane could muster.

The blonde rested her head against Jane's shoulder, content in the safety and comfort that it offered. They stayed like this for a while, quiet and close, until Maura slowly pulled back and looked into smiling eyes. Rather than engage in a humourous joust, she reached down and kissed the bandaged finger.

"Hey," Jane protested, "the human mouth is full of cooties!"

"Yes, I believe the synonym to bacteria is 'cooties'," Maura agreed. "Besides, there are no germs if the kiss is administered with love. That's why you still have all your fingers. And your knees."

Jane seemed to ponder this point for a moment. "That seems to make sense," she agreed with nod. Smiling, she dropped her voice and coyly said, "Have you ever had a cut on your lip? It's a bitch."

"Mmmm," Maura replied. "It's a good thing you have a doctor on call."

...


End file.
